


to clarity we'll climb

by GreyishBlue



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: A little, Accidental Voyeurism, Everyone Lives in the Tower and Nothing Bad Has Happened Ever, Getting Together, Jarvis (Iron Man movies) is a Good Bro, Jarvis had to watch this all happen and now so do you, M/M, Man-Bun Bucky Barnes, Public Hand Jobs, Rutting, The hair is sexy and Clint can't help himself okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 06:07:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20616239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyishBlue/pseuds/GreyishBlue
Summary: What do wayward avengers get up to in the common areas in the middle of the night? When will poor JARVIS just have a quiet night? Will Tony sell recordings of these things eventually?





	to clarity we'll climb

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Messy Bun](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26258989) by [HeyBoy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeyBoy/pseuds/HeyBoy). 

> My first thing that's even vaguely smut, please forgive me for what I've done.  
Title from an AFI song
> 
> Written for Winterhawk Bingo 2019 Square: Rutting
> 
> Now with an art by the lovely HeyBoy!

Clint stops dead in his tracks, halfway tripping over nothing and his own feet, his coffee run entirely forgotten. His jaw drops, but no sound actually manages to come out. He’s in the common room of Avengers Tower, it’s some awful time of the morning, around 3 but he hasn’t been keeping track because it’s depressing to know how hard insomnia hits him lately. In front of him, in the little kitchenette, stands a quietly dancing Bucky Barnes. There are earbuds in his ears, his hair is swept up off his neck into a bun, and he seems to be moving to whatever beat is being filtered to him through his phone. Clint wants desperately to back away and not be caught watching, but he absolutely can’t. The crush he’s been harboring for the moody mysterious soldier turned assassin turned quiet ghost of the tower is holding him rooted to his spot. Bucky’s hips are swaying and he’s muttering some of the words and letting the others just slip past his lips on a breath and somehow he hasn’t managed to catch Clint’s stunned form at the end of the room yet. He’s lifting his arms up, caught in some unknowable chorus, glinting metal fingers digging into the bun on the back of his skull, when Clint lets out a strangled noise that super soldier hearing immediately catches. 

Bucky turns on a dime, his ice blue eyes immediately zeroing in on Clint. He crosses the room with speed that can only be attributed to some version of super serum. Despite years of training, Clint finds himself shoved roughly against a wall, a metal arm pinning his chest. Some part of him insists he shouldn’t let a world-renowned assassin hold him like this, and another much more insistent part screams that his eyes are bluer this close, and his lips look incredibly soft even surrounded by days old stubble. Clint tries to put up some semblance of a struggle, but Bucky notices quickly that he isn’t actually trying, that Clint’s eyes keep drifting to entirely non-threatening points on his face. 

Before Clint can try to explain himself, Bucky seems to realize that maybe body slamming a teammate for being in the same room is a bit of an overreaction, and he pulls back guiltily. Clint can’t help another incriminating noise, this one a soft whimper of loss. Bucky tilts his head in confusion.

“...the fuck, Barton?” Bucky is still close, mostly-murder glare firmly in place, wisps of hair escaping the haphazard bun piled on his head.

“You’re.. I.. I’m sorry? I just saw you, dancing and. Um. You’re good?” Clint cringes inwardly (and a tad outwardly) at how much of that came out a question. He straightens up to his full height to try to save a sliver of his reputation, and is pleased to find that Bucky has to tilt up to meet his gaze.

“You keepin’ an eye on me?” There’s a little brooklyn slipping into Bucky’s words along with a tilt to his lips that Clint is trying so very hard not to read into. It’s a hell of a challenge once Bucky shifts closer again, when Clint can feel the line of Bucky’s thigh against his own, when Bucky cages him back into the wall with his mismatched arms. 

Clint doesn’t know what to do, feels paralyzed by the man in front of him. He just nods quietly, lets his eyes drift back to the smirk that’s playing across Bucky’s lips now. He lets his hands fall to Bucky’s hips, hesitantly wraps his fingers in belt loops and tugs gently, the closest to assent he can come when he’s this much at a loss for words.

“Let me know if I’m reading this wrong, Hawkeye.” He moves in closer as he says it, one hand resting on Clint’s shoulder and the other running softly across his jaw. Then Bucky is pressing his lips gently against Clint’s and Clint loses the thread of the night entirely. Everything feels focused in, the world whittled down to Bucky’s teeth gently nipping at his lower lip. Clint opens his mouth easily, allows Bucky to lick his way in with a groan. 

Bucky shifts them, thigh pressing between Clint’s legs, hands exploring down across Clint’s chest. Clint gasps and presses back against him, glad for the support of the wall at his back, sure he would be melting into the floor without it. The kiss deepens, and Clint is so so very glad he put his hearing aids in before coming down here, because the soft gasps Bucky is making against his lips are everything he hoped they would be. Clint is trying his best not to grind himself against Bucky’s leg, but he can’t help a few rolls of his hips and he’s fairly certain he’s dying when Bucky leans in further to whisper against his ear, “You want it that bad, huh, baby?”

Clint tries to pride himself on self control and respecting boundaries, but the deep rumble of Bucky’s voice shreds the last of his restraint. He groans and wraps his arms around the gorgeous brunette in front of him, finally lets himself sink his fingers into the thick hair at the nape of Bucky’s neck. He tugs at the bun and claims Bucky’s mouth when he gasps from the pleasure of it. Clint isn’t sure which of them whimpers in need.

“Yes, god, fuck. Barnes..” Clint is gasping words in some order as Bucky bites and licks across his neck, and he’s fairly certain he’s never felt this turned on while fully clothed before. There’s something about being held at the mercy of a man with so much power that Clint hasn’t ever been able to feel, the metal hand pressing a bruise into his hip feels like the best kind of pain. 

“Mm, call me Bucky, sugar,” he mutters it against Clint’s neck but it’s clear enough, although Clint is mostly focused on the way Bucky’s hips are rolling against his, the insistent press of them together. Another needy tug breaks the band holding Bucky’s hair in place and it drapes across his shoulders. This time Clint knows it’s him whimpering and he starts to wonder if he’s really above begging right before Bucky’s hand shifts from his hip to where he really needs the extra friction. 

It only takes a few more minutes of frantic kissing, bites scattered across necks and whatever other skin they can reach, and a steady hand against his still-clothed cock before Clint is shuddering and gasping Bucky’s name as he comes. Once he’s managed to slow his breathing back to something reasonable, Clint opens his eyes to find Bucky watching him a little wearily. He grins immediately and tips his head back down to kiss Bucky again, soft and sweet this time. 

“Buck, you should really come up to my rooms.” Clint wiggles his eyebrows and Bucky snorts a little laugh his way. The elevator door a few feet from them chimes helpfully, like JARVIS had just been hoping for an opportunity to get them out of the common area. Clint grabs Bucky’s hand and nearly drags him into the elevator. He doesn’t even mind that he never managed to get his coffee, really.


End file.
